


The Denny's Fic

by draculasdaughter



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculasdaughter/pseuds/draculasdaughter
Summary: It's 2am. Grantaire's a little drunk, he needs a ride home and he just wants a vanilla milkshake.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	The Denny's Fic

Grantaire isn’t sure what he’s thinking when he calls Enjolras. 

But the phone is already ringing, so he drunkenly props himself up against a wall and waits to see if the blonde will even pick up. After all, it’s 2am on a Saturday.

Shockingly, he does. 

“Grantaire?” 

“Enjolras!” He grins, feeling a giddy surge of butterflies in his stomach. Enjolras sounds groggy on the other end of the call, his voice just slightly lower than Grantaire has ever heard it. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. What’s up?”

“You don’t need more beauty sleep anyway,” He jokes, thinking he’s very clever. “Uh, so I’m at a party. And the party was fun but it’s not fun anymore and I wanna go home. But apparently, my card declined on Uber and I need a ride. Can you gimme a ride?” There’s a moment of silence on the other end so he keeps talking, “It’s okay if you can’t, I’ll call someone else.” 

“—No, no,” Enjolras interrupts. “I can come get you. Text me your address?” 

“You’re a hero, thank you!” 

Grantaire sends his location with a few of his favorite emojis (goat, the big eyed emoji bottoms use and the one with two hearts), then slips his phone in his pocket and goes back into the party to say goodbye. 

Once inside, his eyes land on Montparnasse, the toxic magnet he’s been drawn to far too many times. They make eye contact across the room and the tall brunette winks, then beckons him over with a crooked finger.

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?” 

Grantaire shrugs, stunned silent by hazy memories of mind-blowing nights spent in his company. They’d been involved during some dark moments in Grantaire’s life. In fact, they’d never been sober together, always snorting or smoking something. As much as he doesn’t want to revert to those times, the chaotic gremlin in his mind is horny and can’t walk away yet.

Montparnasse lifts Grantaire’s gaze with a hand on his chin. His thumb traces over his bottom lip. “You wanna get out of here, baby?” 

Grantaire’s stomach drops. He wants nothing more than to say yes. He wants to pull Montparnasse into the nearest bathroom and drop to his knees. It takes every ounce of his willpower to stick his itching hands in his pockets instead of pulling Montparnasse closer by his belt loops. He clears his throat and smiles shyly. 

“I can’t tonight. My friend’s picking me up soon.” 

Montparnasse’s easy smile drops. “Sad.” He raises an eyebrow and strokes along Grantaire’s jaw. “Text me, sweetheart. I miss you.” 

Grantaire turns his head and kisses Montparnasse’s palm with a grin. “I’ll see you around, baby.” He makes a beeline for the door, body screaming. He can’t be here anymore. He’s just going to make a bad decision and relapse. He shouldn’t have come here in the first place, but he was so tired of just sitting in his apartment alone.

He texts Eponine, who he’d come to the party with, goodbye, then sits on the porch with a cigarette while he waits for Enjolras. 

Eventually Enjolras shows up in his signature red Prius. He jogs across the street and gratefully gets into the car. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

“No problem.” Enjolras begins to drive. His stereo is quietly playing something, probably the Bedroom Pop playlist on Spotify. Someone, possibly Grantaire, had put him on it a few months ago and he apparently didn’t listen to anything else anymore.

“Hey,” Enjolras looks over at a silent Grantaire, slouching in the passenger seat. “Are you okay?” 

Grantaire shrugs. “I’m fine.” 

He doesn’t seem convinced. “Do you need anything?” 

His personal solution to all problems, “I want a milkshake.” He can feel his throat closing up, like it’s hard to swallow. No. He’s not going to cry in front of Enjolras. 

Enjolras nods and changes lanes unquestioningly. “Alright. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Grantaire leaning against the window and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to will away the tears welling behind his eyelids. “I just— I—” He sighs. “Why can’t nice guys like me? Why do I always attract pieces of shit?” 

“You don’t—” Enjolras starts.

“—No, I do.” He turns to look at Enjolras, who looks far too perfect for the middle of the night. Tears slip down his cheeks and he wipes them away furiously. “You don’t really know me, Enjolras. I’m not like you or your friends. My friends don’t discuss, like, philosophy and shit over coffee like yours. They drop acid, and snort coke and watch cartoons on the weekend. And I can’t seem to get away from them. Fuck—” His voice breaks and he covers his red face with his hands. “I keep trying to change and I can’t.” He whispers. 

Enjolras, it seems, is struck silent. Grantaire breathes with his head in his hands, desperately trying to regain control of his breath and only making himself more anxious. They stop and he feels the car settle into park. 

“That’s not you, though.” Enjolras says quietly. “Hey. Those people, they’re not like you.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” Enjolras says firmly. “R, I know that’s not you because you called me tonight. You didn’t call them.” 

Grantaire sits up and wipes his face on his sleeve. “I didn’t call you because I’m some strong, recovering addict,” He laughs, a breathy pathetic laugh. They’re at a fucking Denny’s. “I could have called anyone else for a ride. I called you because I was thinking about you.” He shrugs. 

“What?” Enjolras asks softly. 

“I’m always thinking about you.” He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He looks down to his knees and picks at the tears along his thighs. “Fuck, I’m drunk.” He mutters, even though he’s beginning to sober up. “Um, can you just drive me home?” 

“We're already here.” Enjolras says. “Let’s at least get a milkshake.” 

He sniffs and wipes at his face one more time. “Sure, whatever.” He knows he’s not going to let it go.

The Denny’s is nearly empty except for two teenagers. After all, it’s nearly 3am now. They sit in a booth on the other side of the restaurant. As they slide into the booth, Grantaire notices what Enjolras is wearing. He’s wearing a blue crewneck from his alma mater, Columbia University and a pair of black sweatpants. 

“Are you in your pajamas?” Grantaire asks. 

“Um, kind of. I guess I’m in my comfy clothes.” He stutters, then lowers his voice. “I don’t— I sleep naked.” 

Before Grantaire even has time to digest that image, a server comes to their table.

Enjolras orders an Oreo milkshake and a basket of fries. Then, he looks expectantly to Grantaire. 

“Vanilla milkshake, please.” 

The server nods and heads to the kitchen with their order. 

“Vanilla?” Enjolras asks. 

“Why fuck with a classic?” Grantaire shrugs and reaches for the salt shaker. He dumps a tiny mountain onto the table like a child and shapes it into a smiley face. It’s mostly so he doesn't have to look at Enjolras, who he can feel staring at the top of his head. 

“Oh shit,” Grantaire realizes suddenly. “My card. I can’t—” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Says Enjolras without a moment of hesitation. “I got it.” 

Grantaire looks up, mouth opening and then closing because he knows he can’t protest. He sighs, then asks. “Why are you so nice?” 

“I’m not that nice.” Enjolras frowns. 

“No. You are. You’re so nice, you’re a gentleman.” Grantaire looks down to his salt pile, moving it back into a circle. “I bet you’d never pull any of the shit these guys I know pull. These guys,” he sighs bitterly, “I can’t even call them my exes because they couldn’t commit to anything.” 

“Tell me about ‘em, if you want.” 

“Sure. I mean, I’m sure you’ve never met guys like this.” Grantaire shrugs and tries to think of where to start. “A lot of these guys say they’re non-monogamous, which is fine. You can be ethically non-monogamous and not be a dick. But these guys end up using non-monogamy as an excuse to have a lot of sex but not care about any of their partners.” 

Enjolras hums, nodding. 

“So apparently, I habitually get into relationships with people who don’t care about me.” He pushes the salt into a little star as he speaks. “And I always think they’ll care eventually, if I stick around long enough. But they never do.” He’d been spending a lot of time alone recently, a lot of time to think about and recognize the pattern he’d been stuck in for years. 

The food arrives and Grantaire is grateful for the distraction from his pity party. It’s only a moment though, because Enjolras can’t ignore anything. Once the server leaves, Enjolras leans forward with a serious look on his face. 

“You don’t deserve those guys.” Enjolras says. He pushes the fries between them, wordlessly indicating that they’re meant to be shared. 

Grantaire shrugs. He takes a few fries and dips one into his milkshake, daring Enjolras to judge him with a raised eyebrow. Instead of judging, Enjolras does the same. 

“I’m serious, Grantaire.” He insists. “You deserve the world. You deserve a guy who really cares about you, who can commit.” 

“Sure.” Grantaire gives in and leans back, crossing his legs. “Let’s say I deserve a good guy. Where is he?” 

Enjolras laughs. The man is laughing at him. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” He throws a fry at Enjolras. “I’m in a state of emotional distress, I just poured my soul out to you and you’re fucking giggling!” But now he’s laughing too.

“I’m sorry! You’re just so smart. You just wrapped years of a destructive pattern into a nice little explanation, which usually takes time and therapy. But still, you’re so oblivious.” Enjolras rakes his fingers through his hair, grinning. “How do you not realize? I bet nice guys hit on you every day and you just don’t notice them. I bet you have no idea what a healthy, flirty encounter looks like.” 

“What?” Incredulous, Grantaire leans forward. “I know what flirting looks like! I’m so good at it.” 

“Okay, sure. Describe to me how people flirt.” Enjolras leans back and munches on a handful of fries.

“Fine.” He crosses his arms over the table, determined to win this dumb challenge. “People flirt with each other through looking, um, they stare at each other. People banter with each other, sometimes they tease each other. Um, they, like, give each other their time.” He looks across the table with a questioning look, “Are you satisfied? Do you need more examples?” 

“No, I’m satisfied. You seem to understand the concept of flirting, in theory.” Enjolras takes a sip of his milkshake. “Maybe it’s me that doesn’t understand flirting, then. What have we been doing for months, if not flirting?” 

Grantaire falls silent. “Huh? You and me?” 

“I’m not misreading anything, right? You and I have been flirting for months, right?” Enjolras furrows his brow, looking a little concerned.

“Um.” Grantaire looks around the empty restaurant, in case there was a huge sign in the corner that said JUST KIDDING LOSER, but there’s nothing. He looks back to the blonde. “Yeah. I— I mean, I’ve definitely been flirting with you since day one. But I never thought you were flirting back. You’re too… perfect to flirt with me. I thought you were always, just, dealing with my bullshit.” 

“By staring at you and bantering with you and picking up your calls at 2am?” Enjolras shakes his head. “I don’t have the energy to just deal with your bullshit. I— I love your bullshit.” He stretches his hand across the table, palm up. “In fact, I live for it. Ask any of my friends, who by the way, are also your friends.” 

“Okay.” Grantaire, still struck with disbelief, takes Enjolras’ hand across the table. “What does this mean? You wanna take me out on a dinner or something?” 

“Denny’s at 3am isn’t romantic enough for you?” Enjolras laughs, absolutely glowing. He nods. “Of course. Real dinner. Real dates. The whole thing.” 

A giddy feeling fills Grantaire’s chest. “Really? You can’t joke about this. I— I probably love you.” His cheeks burn happily with a blushing grin. 

“I probably love you too.” Enjolras says without hesitation, moving to interlock their fingers. 

“Oh.” Grantaire searches his eyes for a moment, seeing nothing but the earnest, passionate nature that makes Enjolras so wonderful. He means it. “Wow. Um, so what does this mean? Are we gonna, like, take it slow?” 

“Uh… do you want to?”

“No.” Grantaire blurts. “No, I want to jump your bones.” With his free hand, he makes a helpless grabby gesture. “I— um, I want to have sex for like three days.” 

Enjolras nods happily, grinning wide. “Please.” 

Grantaire stands up faster than he thought possible and scoots into the other side of the booth with a huge grin. They kiss clumsily, each smiling too large to do it properly. 

Giddy, Grantaire giggles. “Fuck, we need the check.”

**Author's Note:**

> A wild ride, huh? Hope you liked it. I had so much fun writing this one!


End file.
